On The Difficulty of Progress Without Lily Potter
by Vaysh11
Summary: Lily is following in the footsteps of her famous dad. -Lily/Scorpius, background Harry/Draco


**On the Difficulty of Progress without Lily Sirius Potter**

oOo

_Dedicated to the HP Wankfest mods, _  
><em>R_Grayjoy and Nehalenia,<em>  
><em>for their unswerving love of self-love.<em>

oOo

The day Lily Potter heard her dad was shagging Mr Malfoy was the day she left Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

There was nothing else she could do, not with everyone in the Great Hall staring at a picture of her father, kissing the slightly taller, slightly thinner man with hair shimmering like a beacon in the crowd. Lily even knew the place – a fancy Muggle restaurant dad had taken them once, for mum's birthday. Lily had loved their iced soup made from cucumbers and apples. But now the thought that her dad had kissed the fresh-sweet taste from Mr Malfoy's lips made her nauseous.

She pushed the _Prophet_ to the side, ignored her friends, took her school bag and left the Ravenclaw table. She did not turn to look for the bright shock of hair on the Slytherin side. In this moment it did not matter whether Scorpius watched her leave. There was nothing up in the dormitory that she needed; her diary was safely with her at all times. Lily stepped out into the morning light and walked towards Hogsmeade.

The Knight Bus picked her up before the _Broomsticks_ and she told the conductor the first place that came to her mind.

"Little Whinging."

The skinny purple-clad wizard sold her a ticket for thirty-three sickles. He didn't so much as flinch at the Muggle destination. Everybody in the wizarding world knew Lily's dad had grown up in Little Whinging. And really, everybody but the Potter kids had been to the infamous Privet Drive. Dad hated the place and wouldn't let them visit. But _now_ Lily was going.

Sitting in a big leather armchair in the back of the Knight Bus, Lily thought that now she'd finally see all the famous places she had been reading about – secretly at night under the covers with a muted _Lumos_ – in Mrs Skeeter's Harry Potter biography. The book was banned in Lily's home, which of course had made all three of the kids even more curious. Al had got the book from James, and he had passed it on to Lily. Reporters were liars, that much had become obvious to her, from reading the book. Lily knew for a fact that her dad didn't have a Snitch tattooed onto his arse.

While the bus rambled through the sunlit fields she thought about her dad's arse. Only once since she'd become aware that there was a difference between boys and girls had she'd seen her dad naked. They used to take baths together, Al, dad and she. They must have been starkers but she had no memory of their arses. She had no memory of their pricks, either. Albus giggling and gulping down mouthfuls of water that smelled like summer, dad's chest covered with dark hair, soft like Crookshank's fur – that she remembered, but not pricks sticking out from the soapy bubbles.

Lily wondered about her dad's prick as she walked down Privet Drive, the Knight Bus screeching off behind her. Did her dad stick his prick into Scorpius' dad's arse? Or did dad let Mr Malfoy fuck him? Or did her dad take both their pricks into his hand while he kissed Mr Malfoy, like she'd seen in one of Uncle Charlie's magazines before mum had snatched it away from her and Al?

The road was lined with large, square houses behind low garden walls. They all looked the same. Little Whinging had to be the most boring place in the whole of the boring Muggle world. Lily wandered around the neighbourhood until she found a gate leading into a play park. It was old. The swing was hanging lopsided with one chain gone; paint was peeling off the seesaw.

For a while, she sat on the seesaw, pushing herself up from the ground to rise until the turning point and then dropping down again. With magic she would be able to stay up longer in the air. The park was deserted, there was no one around. Nobody would see if she cast a spell. But she did not want to reveal herself with a breach of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction (_the ball and chain law, as the fourth years had dubbed it_). Not yet. This day was hers alone.

The sun was moving towards noon and Lily was getting hot. There was a lazy comforting feeling in the mechanical up and down, the metallic moans of its hinges. Insects were buzzing in the dry grass and a breeze rustled in the stunted apple trees nearby. She rose into the air with another tortured squeal.

Up in the air, Lily unbuttoned her school robes; she hitched her skirt up higher so the soft breeze reached her skin. With every bounce a throbbing ache shot through the damp place between her legs. _Pussy_, Scorpius had said when he'd slid his hand in her pants and touched her. He'd made her come in the small windowless nook off the spiral staircase leading up to Ravenclaw tower. Lily had felt his prick rub against her but Scorpius had not wanted her to touch him.

She pushed off again and soared high to bounce back even harder when she hit the ground. The board smacked flat against her pussy. It felt good. It felt even better when she leaned forward and thrust her hips lightly so that her pussy moved against the metal seat. She wondered how it would feel to have Scorpius' prick shoved in there. It sounded awkward, painful. It sounded as if she would just be lying there, exposed, waiting to let herself be fucked. Like she had been standing in that nook, letting herself be touched. The image of dad and Mr Malfoy kissing flashed before her mind again. She wanted _that_. She wanted to wrap her hand around Scorpius' prick and make _him_ come all over himself, losing all shame and writhing and thrusting into her hand with breathless, harsh moans like she overheard in the dorm one night when Lysander had sneaked in to fuck Emer Quirke.

Lily stopped the seesaw's bouncing. She slid off the seat and straightened her robes. The bench at the side of the sandbox was still damp from the rain earlier that morning, and the wood felt cool underneath her hand. She took the diary out from under her shirt, then looked around to check for Muggles. A woman was pushing a stroller on the walkway before the gate but she was far away. Lily took her quill from the bag and began writing.

The shadows lengthened on the asphalt at Lily's feet. It had to be hours after noon. By now, the Headmistress would have notified mum and dad that Lily had left Hogwarts on her own. Meanwhile, Lily had covered many pages with purple ink. When she turned to the next empty page, she felt someone watch her and quickly looked up. Two Muggle girls stood at the broken swing and stared at her. They must wonder about her robes, perhaps, or… ah, the quill. Slowly Lily put quill and diary back in her bag. Muggles wrote with quills sometimes, didn't they? The girls were much younger than her, nine perhaps or ten. They would not think much of an odd girl in robes, writing with a quill. Lily had not broken the Statute of Secrecy, she was certain of it. She nodded at the girls, got up and headed for the gate.

Soon, she was walking down a boring street called Magnolia Road. It curved into Magnolia Crescent and then into the infamous Privet Drive. Two cats were sitting on the garden wall before number four. The left one blinked at Lily, then started cleaning her paw. The tail of the other one twitched but neither turned when Lily walked a few steps onto the manicured lawn. The house looked like any other old house in this dreary place. Someone with a sick sense of humour had planted petunias and lilies in the flower beds underneath the window, a sea of violets and blues. A dark-haired kid was moving behind the curtains. Lily couldn't tell whether it was a girl or a boy.

Sometimes Lily wished she hadn't been named for dad's mum. Lily's favourite name in the world was Sirius. She had asked dad once why they had given James, and not her, Sirius for a middle name. Dad had given her a quizzical look. He hadn't laughed. Not like mum, who'd thought Lily was making a joke. Not like stupid James, who never understood anything. Dad had known that Lily wasn't joking. Lily thought again of the picture in the _Prophet_, of him and Mr Malfoy, and well, perhaps dad had understood because he was gay, apparently. Perhaps he'd understood because he had wanted to touch Mr Malfoy's prick all along, just like Lily had wanted to touch Scorpius' prick, in the darkness of the staircase. Perhaps dad had understood that she couldn't be Lily Luna Potter with Scorpius. Had understood that this graceful, moon-silver middle name wasn't her. With Scorpius she wanted to be Lily Sirius, so she could touch him right and fuck him like Scorpius needed to be fucked. Like she needed to fuck Scorpius.

One of the cats meowed. Lily eyed the one to the right. A lazy green glance met hers, and for a moment she was certain that the cat had to be an Animagus of some sort. But then it resumed cleaning its tail with slow, long-tongued licks. Lily walked back to the garden wall and held out her wand hand at the curb. Three seconds later, a deafening _bang_ shattered the quiet of the street, and the Knight Bus screeched to a halt in front of her. Lily gave the house one last look. The kid behind the window was gone. What a boring place with its drooping lilies and the dry brown grass. No wonder her dad never wanted to come back.

"Where d'you like t' go now, young lady?" the tired-looking conductor asked, squinting at her. His ears were very large and stuck out from his head. "You did flag us down this mornin' in 'Ogsmeade, dincha?"

"I did," Lily said and told him where she wanted to go next.

oOo

It was easy to reach the keys hanging behind the reception and snatch the one Lily wanted. She was up the stairs and in the room mere minutes after she'd asked the woman at the front desk for number seventeen.

_You're lucky_, the woman had said. _Seventeen's not taken yet._

But luck had nothing to do with it. Perhaps Muggles counted differently, but there were no more than eight rooms in the whole of the Railview Hotel. Why this room had been given the number seventeen, Lily had no idea. But it had to be the same room where her dad stayed with his cousin Dudley. She remembered dad telling them how the sheets had smelled like wet mushrooms, and the one window looking out onto a busy road. Even now, when Lily slipped the Invisibility Cloak from her shoulders, headlights were scanning the room through flimsy curtains.

It felt weird to be here. Lily had seen Uncle Dudley once – at the funeral of her great-aunt Petunia whom she never met. All Lily remembered was a Muggle, as shy as he was big, with an expression of perplexed awe on his face whenever he glanced her way. It was hard to imagine him and dad sleeping in those beds, listening to the sound of cars roaring by. She moved her fingers over the striped wallpaper. It felt spongy and damp. Yellow-beige stripes, the beds made from plywood painted a faded orange – Lily doubted the room looked any different now than back when dad had slept in it.

The apples Lily had taken (_nicked_) from a greengrocer next to the Railview Hotel added a fruity scent to the stuffy room. She dropped her bag on the table. Dad would have chosen the bed closer to the door. There was a gap between it and the wardrobe, wide enough to hang away a coat but too narrow for a big boy like Uncle Dudley. And dad liked to keep close to doors. She slipped out of her trainers, took off her robes and stretched out on the bed. It was surprisingly soft for something that wasn't cushioned by magic.

What if her dad her had brought Mr Malfoy here, instead of to the restaurant where they had gone for mum's birthday? Lily glanced at the other bed. It was at least a yard away. If dad stretched out his arm, and Mr Malfoy reached for it, they would be able to touch. Scorpius had slender arms with hard muscles one could feel but not see. He had held her upright in the nook at the staircase when her knees buckled after she had come. She wanted to hold Scorpius like that, one hand on his prick, the other tight around his middle, with his head thrown back against her shoulder and thrusting into her hand with need. If her dad could do that to Mr Malfoy, she could do it to Scorpius, too, couldn't she?

Perhaps she should bring Scorpius here. Mr Malfoy would never come to a cheap place like this, not even if dad asked him to. Scorpius had told Lily all about the expensive places his parents went. Too bad for her dad, then, for _Scorpius_ Malfoy would love to join Lily here – in this small, gloomy Muggle hotel, on the outskirts of a big nameless Muggle city. Scorpius held a secret passion for all things Muggle. Sometimes Lily wondered whether he was friends with her, not so much because she was Harry Potter's daughter, but because she was related to Muggles and for the tales of what was hidden away in Grandpa Weasley's shed.

They would eat apples, make fun of Muggles and their funny cars, they would sit on the beds, reach out and touch across the distance. Scorpius would wear nothing but his pants and the leather bracelet around his wrist. And she would wear nothing but her pants and the shell necklace Aunt Fleur had given her.

Lily wriggled out of her skirt, unbuttoned her school blouse and slipped off the vest. She'd gone without a bra this morning and her tits were swinging freely, no longer too small (_Scorpius' words, not hers_) but nothing like the voluptuous knockers some girls in her year had grown. Scorpius liked her tits. Lily was certain of it. But he never touched them, only ever stared when he thought she wasn't looking.

Lily cupped one tit, leaned forward and let its soft weight rest in her hand. The nipple was hard and sensitive; she could feel it in her clit when her palm rubbed over it. Since this afternoon on the seesaw her clit had been tingling in a way that needed taking care of once she was at a private place on her own.

She was on her own now, but the beds stood too far apart. Not even full-grown men would be able to reach each other comfortably. If dad had brought Mr Malfoy here, he would have taken one look at the beds and brought them together with a flick of his wrist. Nobody was to know about his wandless magic, still dad used it all the time around their home. James had shown no aptitude for it but Lily secretly hoped that she'd inherited this gift. For a second she was tempted to try it, focus her magic through the tip of her fingers alone, and make the beds into one. But she held herself back. Not yet. They would find her soon enough. No need yet to give her whereabouts away before the morning.

She got up, planted her feet on the carpet and shoved the bed towards the one at the window. It was surprisingly light. Dust mice and a shrivelled apple appeared underneath. Lily kicked the apple back down underneath the bed, the dust mice she gave a quick pet. Without magic, there was nothing she could do about the crack between the beds, so she spread both the duvets to cover it. Stretching arms and legs wide, she lay back onto the bed, and it was comfortable enough.

The room was getting dark. Outside, a street lamp flickered, painting twitchy circles of light on the wall. Cars moved by, a truck rumbled, the soft sounds from a Muggle wireless wafted upstairs from the reception. In the shadows it was easy to imagine Scorpius beside her, his bright head hovering close. Lily put her palm over her crotch. Her pants were damp and warm. She moved her hips lightly, with small thrusts. Her tits swayed with the movements, and for a moment she cupped both of them to feel their weight in her hands. Then she shoved her pants down and reached for her pussy.

Scorpius' prick would be hard in her hands. Not very big, that much she'd felt when he'd pressed against her on the staircase, but Lily didn't mind. Head falling back onto the duvet, she let herself see his pale throat and the way his eyes fluttered shut. Still a boy's chest, pale and hairless, with tiny pink nipples, nothing like her grown-up tits and hips. Lily would wank him until all that smooth skin was glowing and drops of sweat were glistening in the hollows beneath his collarbone.

She rolled onto her side, touching the inside of her thighs and the knobbly roundness of her knee. Slowly she pushed her middle finger in and out, all the while rubbing the heel of her hand against her clit. Scorpius would lie in front, his back and arse pushed against her, and he'd be moaning for her to edge skin-close. She'd reach around his waist and wrap her fingers around his cock and toss him off. He'd be spreading his legs wide, giving her access to whatever she wanted to touch, base of cock, balls, the tender spot behind them and further even, the tight pucker of his hole. She'd let her hand glide up and down the inside of his thighs, and he'd groan and turn his head, searching for her mouth. They had kissed, of course, but not like this, not with Scorpius all wanting and aching for her.

Lily brought her hand, the hand she used to fuck herself, up to her mouth. When she sucked at the ball of her hand, it tasted salty with a trace of apple juice and girl, nothing like Scorpius' mouth that was all forests and cool. But it didn't matter. In the Railview Hotel, in this spring night, Scorpius tasted fresh and sweet like cucumber-apple soup and Lily licked her skin (_his lips_) until they were wet with spit and need. She let their kiss deepen and sucked at Scorpius' tongue that was thrusting eagerly into her mouth. She moved her hand back to her pussy, rubbing two fingers over her clit, slick with spit and how wet she was. It was easy to imagine Scorpius moan and hum with need, a sound that vibrated in both their bodies.

Lily felt it in her throat, and in her clit – how beautiful Scorpius was, with his eyes gleaming silver in the muted light. His hair was soft against her shoulder and neck, like velvet, like fine-spun twine. His hips were moving back and forth by a will of their own, small helpless thrusts that he could not control, not in hidden nooks on tower stairs, not on cheap sheets in Muggle hotel rooms. Not when Lily touched him like this, up and down (_in and out_), her own crotch hot and hard, pressed tightly against his arse.

Oh, the way Scorpius moved when Lily rubbed her thumb across his slit. How he groaned, loudly, into her mouth, shivering, breathless sounds – _more, Lil, more, go harder, harder, Lil..._ He'd slung his leg back over Lily's, pulling her closer, while he was opening all up, knees wide apart, thighs trembling – for her fingers, her hands, her tongue (_her cock_). He was lying half on top of her, wrapped in her arms, her one hand around his chest, her other on his dick that was twitching and growing and so wet. Lily let her palm glide over his (_her_) nipples that were standing hard and erect in the apple-sweet air of room number seventeen of the Railview Hotel. A shiver would run through Scorpius' whole body, making her shiver, too. His hands would clench at his sides, then slide across her skin with a whispered, _Lil, oh, Lil_ and she'd pinch his nipple, lightly, tenderly, because that was how he (_how she_) liked it, more a hard brush than a pinch, and she felt her crotch contract at the thought of Scorpius' needy gasp, at the way he thrust his hips up, up into her fist.

Scorpius' silver-bright strands (_her chestnut curls_) fell onto the duvet, and Lily burrowed her face into them, gulping for air (_pine-fresh like Scorpius_). She moved her fingers in and out (_up and down_), she rubbed her wetness over her clit (_his slit_), she dove in deep, three fingers thick, into the tightness of her pussy (_his arse_). She pressed down hard onto the spot that felt so good, that pulsed, in ever wider circles, steady and unstoppable, hurling her towards that edge where she was heading, eagerly, but not quite yet. Not when Scorpius whimpered so beautifully in her arms, his cock slick and dark red in her hand. He was writhing, and he rubbed his arse against her clit (_her cock_), saying, _touch me, Lil, touch me there, oh yes, oh please..._ And her cock (_her clit_) was so tightly pressed into the delicious warmth of Scorpius' butt, moving up and down (_in and out_) as he spread his legs impossibly wide, for her to reach and thrust, in and out, harder and harder.

Like always it started in her toes, a numbness and a tingling just the same. Scorpius was a warm, wet-slick weight within her arms, unable to keep himself (_herself_) from moaning. His body was hot and limber, making jerky moves that told her he was close. Her cock was deeply buried within his arse (_her fingers deep within her crotch_), and he loved it, craved it, pushed back into her, again and again. The tingling reached her thighs, ghost fingers stroking her skin, Scorpius' nails digging into her flesh. He wouldn't last long, not with his prick leaking into her hand, not with his mouth chanting her name like it turned him on, to wrap his tongue around those sounds – _Lil, Lil, oh Lil..._ She said his name, too, aloud, an echo in room seventeen of the Railview Hotel. "Scorpius."

The hardness of his name, and the softness of hers made heat wash over her, like burning, and the tingling was everywhere and ablaze.

"Sirius, call me Sirius", Lily whispered into the ringing stillness of the room.

And Scorpius said, _Sirius, fuck me..._ with his boyish voice, _Sirius, touch me..._ with his Malfoy drawl. _Want you, Sirius_, husky and cool, like only Scorpius could say it.

It took her right over the edge. Lily hadn't known she could come so fast, and so hard, from her hand alone, and in a bed that was not her own. But she was coming and panting – Scorpius' name, she thought, or just indistinct sounds, breaking free from the space between her lips and the breath-damp pillow. Her body curled in on itself with need, snapping into ever-widening pleasure, knife-sharp and honey-sweet. Crotch dripping wet, fingers slick with juice, there was only skin and air, inside and out, full and loose and open, open... for anything. _Anything_.

Scorpius had never seen her like that, not ever. But in this moment it didn't matter at all.

oOo

Lily left the Railview Hotel in the early morning. A thin, sleepy guy sat at the desk, not the woman from last night, and Lily sneaked right by under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak.

Out in front of the hotel the sun was peaking over the shadowed houses. Only a few windows were lit, and the street was deserted. Not even a truck rumbled by. Lily held out her wand hand at the curb.

The Knight Bus arrived with a bang, awash in sunlight. The conductor mustered Lily with a suspicious glance. "'Choo been doin' here all night, anyway? 'Tis is a Muggle place, innit? Not a wizar' or witch around."

"Sleeping," Lily said and asked for a toothbrush even before she told him where she wanted to go next.

oOo

The Leaky Cauldron was still closed, windows bolted with green shudders and a huge iron padlock at the door. Lily stepped off the Knight Bus, waved the conductor good-bye and walked down Diagon Alley. A few early shoppers were loitering in the street, waiting for the stores to open. From the display window of the _Daily Prophet_ Minister Shacklebolt scowled at her before he turned back to a delegation of house-elves, clad in pearly-white tea-cosies bearing the emblem of the Ministry. One day later, and the revelations about dad's affair with Mr Malfoy were already gone from the title page.

A blond boy passed behind her, his face a blur in the reflection. Lily almost spun around, but it wasn't Scorpius, too tall, hair cropped too short, his robes moving too stiffly, like none of the Malfoys' tailored robes ever would. Still, his blond beside her red... It made Lily think about the _Prophet_'s photographer, taking a snapshot of her and Scorpius, another Potter-Malfoy scandal for next day's headlines. Perhaps Scorpius would let her cup the back of his head and kiss him, like she wanted to. Like dad had kissed Mr Malfoy.

_In another life_, dad had said when Lily'd asked about a different middle name. Of course, Lily's dad had come back from the dead, so _another life_ meant something else to him than to other people. But maybe dad had meant this, too: _next time, Lil, next time when your mum and I name a child of ours, it will be a name that fits._ Or perhaps he had meant: _in another life when I'm gay. When I'm no longer ashamed to openly kiss the man I love. Maybe then..._

But the life of Lily Sirius Potter was starting now, right here. She stepped away from the window. On the glass pane, a kid's shadow moved backwards, skinny, tall, a bag on a shoulder strap at the side of the robes. There was no telling whether it was a boy or a girl.

She shook her wand from the sleeve and took the last of the apples from her bag. It was not exactly a simple Transfiguration charm. But hidden in the apple lay the seeds of a tree, and the wood of fruit trees makes for excellent brooms. Not easy to steer, with peculiar quirks, but light and fast – a Seeker's broom.

Lily willed the broom to hover in the air beside her; she tucked away her wand. She had eight, maybe nine minutes until the owl from the Ministry arrived. More than enough time to zoom up into the wide blue above Diagon Alley. Lily smiled and mounted the broom.

_fin_


End file.
